


The One Who Stayed and The One Who Left

by MorningGlory21



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hence the title, Just a random thing, Maybe he dies at the end?, Minor Character Death, from listening to regina Spektor and anais mitchell, up to you!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningGlory21/pseuds/MorningGlory21
Summary: On a cold afternoon, there was a lonely bus stop. The town was busy, but had nothing noticeable to a stranger. Passing through, you’d miss the people and maybe - whether with a map, or with a phone, you’d write it off. Passing through to the shoreline.There was one bus stop. It stood sentinel for a sandwich shop and watched the local pub.Quiet. Homely. Forgettable, except for those who lived it.Arthur MacGuvyer was waiting for his bus at the bus stop.





	The One Who Stayed and The One Who Left

On a cold afternoon, there was a lonely bus stop. The town was busy, but had nothing noticeable to a stranger. Passing through, you’d miss the people and maybe - whether with a map, or with a phone, you’d write it off. Passing through to the shoreline. 

There was one bus stop. It stood sentinel for a sandwich shop and watched the local pub. 

Quiet. Homely. Forgettable, except for those who lived it.

Arthur MacGuvyer was waiting for his bus at the bus stop. The rain in September was too much for his old bones, and he wanted to make one last trip to the warm beaches. Seashells and lemonade sold in cups. Clouds puffy white, like his grizzled old face. Beaches shimmering with countless grains. It was the off-season, and Arthur MacGuyver would be alone. 

He always told himself that it was fine. He’d been alone since he’d lost his family. Wife to birth, daughter to the winds.

Always Arthur MacGuyver came to this bus stop in the rainy and cold September. He was just another soul in this town full of spirit. Wandering and wavering like a candle to the gale. He told himself it was fine - to be a lonely spirit meant he could make it of himself. 

The bus was late.

But Arthur MacGuyver didn’t mind. Nothing waited for him at home - except, maybe, another show’s re-run, another drink and another night of sleep. Another night of reading’s his wife’s books, another night of reading his daughter’s college essays. He lit his cigarette and it was another night of hearing his wife in his head, reminding him gently that he would get lung cancer from it. Another night of hearing his daughter laughing and fake coughing.

He looked at the pub. He could remember his daughter, with her bright eyes and full cheeks laughing as she shared one last drink with him.

She left in their old car for college. It was why he took the bus for the shoreline.

She left in their old car and never returned.

He left in the bus, and he always returned. 

Maybe he would leave. Maybe he wouldn’t return. 

“Why would you leave me, dad?”

Arthur MacGuyver startled, dropping his cigarette. It dropped in a puddle and sputtered away. He looked around and -

“What?”

His daughter stared at him, her bright eyes and full cheeks and hair gleaming in the fluorescent. It shone off of her like a halo and Arthur MacGuyver was struck. His daughter had been missing for thirty years. Car turned over and returned to him. He never drove it. He had it scrapped after fighting himself for fifteen years.

It had been cornflower blue.

“You - “

“I thought I should say hi. Since I’ve been gone for so long.”

“Where have you been?”

She smiled. It reminded him of his wife, before she went into the hospital. Full of hope and love - for him, for their marriage, for their unborn daughter.

“Do you want to know?”

Slowly, he shook his head. Thirty years of war, he’d made himself a veteran of it. Retired, honorably discharged. He was done.  Arthur MacGuyer looked at her clear plastic umbrella as she extended it to him. It seemed her radiance could keep the rain away from her.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” He took the umbrella from her and she stayed standing. Just beyond his fingers. “I hope you’ve been okay.”

Everything he had wanted to say fell away like the rain. Down the drain. Soaking into his skin and drying away in the winds.

“I’ve been alright.” She spoke airily. “Seen all that I wanted to. Learned what I wanted to. But I wanted to know…”

Arthur MacGuyver nodded.

“Why do you leave? Mom and I loved this place so much - this forgotten town that holds so much love.”

“Because I’m so afraid of loving something you both loved because -”

“Because it might fall away?”

He looked across the road.

“Yes. Exactly.”

His daughter laughed - deep, rumbling and warm. “I think you should stay. Love hurts, dad - you hurt when mom died, and you hurt when I left, yeah?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Then that means it mattered.” She reached out and touched his hand. It was cold and felt like mud. But this was his daughter and he’d love her even if she was just air. “That means it was worth something.”

“Where would I go here?”

“Wherever it mattered, dad.”

He looked over and found nothing. But the umbrella stayed, clear and glancing into the sky. 

On a cold afternoon, there was a lonely bus stop. The town was busy, but had nothing noticeable to a stranger. Passing through, you’d miss the people and maybe - whether with a map, or with a phone, you’d write it off. Passing through to the shoreline. 

There was one bus stop. It stood sentinel for a sandwich shop and watched the local pub. 

Quiet. Homely. Forgettable, except for those who lived it.

When folks came out in the morning, after the bus had gone. On the bench lay a clear umbrella and at the foot of the seat, lay a soaked cigarette. 


End file.
